


What If This Storm Ends?

by lovedsammy



Series: War Of Hearts [5]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, Negan needs his own warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 11:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13612884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovedsammy/pseuds/lovedsammy
Summary: With the twenty-four hour ceasefire set to expire and everyone located at Hilltop, it serves as the battleground for the final fight in the war against Negan. Bedridden from his injury and unable to assist in the fight, Carl impacts the results of the war in a different way -  a way that leaves the world open for a brighter future, and creates a pathway for Negan's chance at redemption.





	What If This Storm Ends?

**Author's Note:**

> I would once again like to apologize for the more than late update. I had a very devastating death in the family that required me to travel, and it was the same night that I started working on this installment, so this one has been hard for me to work through after that. Not to mention that it’s the longest one to date, and perhaps the most important. I very well could’ve ended the series here, but I have a couple more installments to go before I wrap this up. I’m going to go into what Season 9 should have given us, with my own twist on things. The response from you all has been incredible and I’m humble and thankful. I’ve decided to keep this as a father/son dynamic from the responses I got, with just the minimum amount of any kind of sexual tension for anyone wanting something more ‘shippy.’ Maybe in the future I will write something to that degree, but we’ll see after I finish this series. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this update. The title of this one is based on “The Lightning Strike” by Snow Patrol. A very fitting one for this, I think. 
> 
> Also, if any of you have watched the 8b trailer, I think there are some things in here that you will recognize as being canon to the show. It's the same for those of you who've read the comics and know where things are headed at the end of this season.
> 
> Reminder that this fic is unbeta'ed. I went through it a few times to catch any grammatical errors, but I can only catch so much. If you find anything of staggering importance, let me know.

Dusk approaches quickly. 

Carl had managed to fall back asleep for a couple more hours, and comes to with sunlight streaming through the window of his room. He squints against the brightness, taking in the view. The skyline is a brilliant mixture of pinks and blues and greens that makes him grateful to see such a beautiful sight one more time. Once he was fully recovered, he was going to make sure that Doctor Carson got a proper gesture of gratitude from him. Maybe when he saw her again, he’d ask Carol if she would help him bake a cake.

A light rap sounds at his door and his dad enters, looking tired, but not as exhausted as he had been. He greets Carl with an easy smile, yet his shoulders are too tense and he keeps glancing out the window as though expecting something. Then the boy remembers the twenty-four hour ceasefire, and how that expired tonight and his heart stutters. That meant that Negan would be here soon, with his army. Hilltop was about to become the final battleground.

“Hey, glad you’re up. How’re you feeling?” His dad asks.

“All right. A bit better. The pain’s not too bad.” The teen shifts a little so that he’s sitting more upright, wincing a bit. It didn’t hurt as much when he was immobile, but whenever he moved there was a harsh dull throb that made even getting up to go to the bathroom an undesirable action. “Did you get all of the plans made?”

Rick nods slowly, perching on the edge of Carl’s bed with his hands clasped in his lap. “Yeah. We did. We’re as ready as we’re gonna be.”

Carl returns the gesture, unsure of what to say. He was still a bit miffed about the fact that he wasn’t being allowed to play his part, to try and end things for good in a way that could benefit everyone. As if knowing what his son was thinking, Rick releases a long-suffering exhale.

“I know how much you wanted to be a part of this, Carl, and I’m sorry. I wish you could be, too. You’re the best shot I know and if things weren’t like they were, I know you’d be one of first to handle things here. But I can’t risk your safety, not with him. And, look, maybe you’re right, maybe he doesn’t really want to hurt you, but I don’t think for one second that he’d be above it if things didn’t end up going his way. He’s done it before. And his men don’t seem to be taking what he says to heart anymore. They tried to kill you even though he told them not to, so I just need you to understand why. Why  _ I _ can’t take this risk.” He pauses thickly, working past the lump in his throat, and gazes at Carl earnestly. “I promise that it has nothing to do with you, or me doubting you. I just need you to be safe.”

“I know,” The teenager acknowledges. “It’s just… it could work, dad,  _ really _ work.” At his dad’s dubious expression, he speaks again, this time with more conviction. “He would listen to me. He would. He was already starting to back in Alexandria, it’s why his men are starting to doubt him. We could call this off for good. Otherwise, there’s just going to be more bloodshed, and more death, and it goes against everything we’re trying to create. If there’s going to be a future for any of us, there needs to be people. If we can achieve some kind of peace with the Saviors, we can start rebuilding civilization. We could make the world better, or at least close to the way it used to be.”  

Rick sighs once again, suddenly appearing far older suddenly than Carl has ever seen him. “I’m not gonna argue with you. You’re right, we do need people to do that, and that’s why I’ve told the others that we’re not killing _ all _ of them. It’s why Maggie has a bunch of them imprisoned out back in one of the trailers. Only one person has to die, and you know who that is.” He scrutinizes Carl inquisitively, as though trying to stare past the boy’s eye and into the inner workings of his mind. “I thought that was what you wanted, too. Or have you… have you changed your mind about that?”

There’s no judgment in the question, just honest curiosity. Carl takes a moment to think it over, frowning in contemplation. They would all be better off with Negan dead, there was no denying that. Ever since the man had intruded upon their lives, it had become nothing but a living hell, something far worse than existing even with the dead walking among them. He’d taken too much, destroyed too many people, and caused too much suffering. Carl thinks of Maggie, and her and Glenn’s unborn baby who will never know their father, and sweet Olivia who hadn’t deserved what happened to her. He thinks of Abraham, who’d reminded him of Shane in a way, back before Shane had tried to kill his father, before he’d lost himself. He thinks of Sasha, who’d died to give them this fighting chance, to defeat Negan once and for all.

“I don’t know anymore,” He finally admits, meeting his father’s soft eyes with a helpless look of his own. “I don’t know how to feel. I still hate him, and part of me still wants him dead. But… I’ve seen moments where it’s like he’s still human, like we can still reach him. I know you don’t believe that, and it’s probably only me who does, because it’s only me who’s seen it. But I need you to trust me. I wouldn’t be saying it if I didn’t feel like it wasn’t true.”

“It’s not a question of if I trust you, Carl, you know I do, it’s just -”

“Yeah,” Carl nods. He gets it. “We can’t lose anything again, we can’t lose any more of us. We can’t live under his thumb, in fear of what he’ll do next. But I don’t know if we can  _ kill _ him, either.”

He now understood the complexity of the situation his father had been in just over two years ago, with the Governor. How Rick had tried to reason with the man, to get him to stand down, to stop. Back then, Carl had thought his dad weak attempting something like that, for trying to maintain a peace that hadn’t existed in the first place. The only available option was to eliminate the threat, and the Governor had been it. Instead, his father had tried to reach an agreement, only for the Governor to decapitate Hershel, and resulting in the fall of the prison. Carl had hated his father for a while afterwards, hating how guillbile he’d been, how delusional. There was no establishing peace with someone who was too far gone. Only now that he was older could he appreciate what his father had been trying to do. He’d acted like a true leader, trying to spare as many lives as possible, to keep things together. Rick hadn’t been weak -- he’d seen the bigger picture.

It had just been that he’d tried to establish peace with the wrong person, and it had backfired. But Negan… perhaps Negan would see it differently. Perhaps there was enough humanity left in the man for it to work this time.

Rick’s brows furrow at Carl’s statement. “So, what do we do? Do we just let him walk, let him get away with everything he’s done?”

“No, we don’t,” Carl says forcefully. “But we do better. Maybe it’s like Morgan said. Maybe we capture him, lock him up somewhere that he can’t hurt anyone else.”

Something changes in his father’s eyes, and Carl feels a surge of hope that maybe he’d managed to sway his father to his way of thinking. “Maybe,” Rick admits levelly. There’s a pregnant pause that Carl wants to press further on before Daryl enters the room, carrying Judith.

“Maggie said to tell ya that we’re ready for ya, Rick. Some of the others circling the perimeter said they saw him headed our way,” He informs gruffly. “I was just gonna take her down the hall with the other kids, if that’s all right. We got a few people coming now to guard the rooms.”

Rick nods his agreement. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. She’ll be safer there.”

Daryl approaches Carl’s bed, gently depositing Judith into his lap and fondly ruffles the boy’s hair, to which Carl smiles bashfully at. “Figured the kid would wanna see her first.”

Carl grins down at his little sister, not even trying to bat her hand away when she manages to reach up and grab his nose in her tiny little grip. He snorts like a pig at her, one of her favorites, and she pulls away again, giggling. No matter how bad he was feeling, the sound of her laughter never failed to set his mind and body at ease. If there was one thing in this world that he was still living for beside his own existence, it was her. The last reminder of his mother, and the very embodiment of everything left that was good in this world.

His dad reaches over to comb his fingers through the little girl’s hair, the hard lines in his features softening as he did.  _ He could always look like this _ , the boy thinks longingly.  _ At ease, not having to fight anymore. We could all look like that, live peacefully. And Judy… she could grow up in a better world _ . She wouldn’t have to know the trials that he’d endured at the beginning of this, having to live in constant fear and growing up not knowing if it was even possible to survive each day. The world was far from safe, he knew that. The reality of living in an apocalypse made that inevitable. But they’d learned to live around it, to live in spite of it. The only problem now was the war that they were currently fighting, that they didn’t need to be. Things could be good, could almost be like they used to. If the watery smile appearing on his father’s lips was anything to go by, he was thinking similar thoughts.  

Daryl seems to detect that he’s intruding upon a private moment and ducks his head with embarrassment. “I’ll, uh, I’ll  give ya a minute.” He turns and dismisses himself, closing the door with a light click and leaving the three of them alone. Carl wishes that Michonne were here, too, the four of them all together as a family, but for now, this was enough.

After a couple of minutes of idle, peaceful silence, Judith begins to fuss, as if sensing that something was going to be happening soon. Carl thinks that he can hear shouting in the distance, and catches his father’s eye knowingly. Rick gets up and gathers her in his arms, bouncing her lightly to soothe her.   

“I need to get back,” He tells Carl regretfully.

“Yeah,” Carl murmurs. He licks his lips, looking up at his dad. His dad, who may not make it back. A pit of dread settles in his stomach, and he fights against the moisture prickling his eye. Even with their opposite beliefs on how Negan should be handled, his dad was his family, one of the most important people in his life besides Michonne and Judith. He couldn’t lose him - any of them. “Be careful, dad.”

“I will.”

Rick sniffs, glancing to the floor for a beat before he raises his head again. “Listen, Carl… I can’t make any promises for the others, because I know they won’t go along with it. But if this really means that much to you, then I’ll give your way a try. I promise that I’ll try and capture him alive, so we can try to end this without violence. But if someone else takes him out, I can’t do anything about it. And if I do this, you have to agree to stay here and not move out of this bed, no matter what you see, no matter what you hear. I don’t want you involved in any way. Does that sound fair?”

Carl can hardly believe his ears. It wasn’t definite, and it may not even work out, but his father was willing to trust him, to try. It was the best possible scenario. He smiles.

“That… sounds good, dad. Thank you.” He tries to express in his features how much it meant, for his dad to give him this, this unconditional trust that he’d needed for so long.

Rick nods weakly, brushing his fingers through Carl’s hair. “One way or another, this will all be over soon, son. Then we can get things back to the way they were. Or at least to the way they were starting to be before all of this happened. We can live peacefully as much as we can. Your mom would be happy for you to have a life like that again, and she’d want that for Judith, too. So do I. I want that more than anything.”

“I want that, too.” Carl says, and he means it. No matter what the night brought.

-

Maggie is restless.

She paces the small area of her study, which is difficult considering how crowded it is, but it’s surprisingly not at all stifling. If anything, it’s comfortable, filled with a unified solidarity that she hasn’t felt in a long time, not since before Glenn’s death. She brushes the small bump on her stomach wistfully, wishing that Glenn could be here still. But he wasn’t, and there wasn’t anything that could be done about that except try and get some manner of justice for him. That started, and ended, with Negan, and securing his downfall. It was a task that every person in the room was committed to, and she halts her steps to gaze at them all, her family. Men and women, young and old, all with their own skills and assets.

The noise outside is growing ever louder, the movement in the distance more detectable. They were getting closer. It wouldn’t be long now. She lets out a shaky breath that she doesn’t realize that she’s been holding, and meets Jesus’s eyes. He gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“You can do this,” He tells her. “You’re the leader that Hilltop has chosen. We believe in you to see us through.”

She nods mutely, knowing that he was right. She’d done all the preparation that she could. All that was left now was assisting Rick in leading the battle.

They’d decided to hide the babies and children away in one of the rooms down the hall, not far from where Carl was recovering. It was the most secure area in Hilltop, with doors that were locked from both the inside and out, and stationed with a couple of the community’s capable fighters to defend them. They weren’t exactly the most heavy-handed, but they would be enough. They would need more of their manpower at the front gates anyway, when shit really hit the fan. Anyone who was physically able to fight was being utilized, and Carol and Morgan had joined up with them a few hours ago to assist in the battle. They were a man down with Carl being as injured as he was, but she had faith that they would make up for his absence with the additional people that they had. Despite it, a part of her wished that the boy could be a part of this. He’d been there for her after Glenn, and he’d always been a good shot, someone that she could depend on. He’d come so far from the little boy that she’d met on her daddy’s farm that day, with a bullet in his abdomen and clinging to life. It was somewhat similar to how things were now, like a lightning strike that had struck the same place in space and time. She knew that Rick had to be feeling the same way.

With her thoughts fixated on Carl, her eyes inadvertently drift over to Enid. The girl was sitting huddled on one of the chairs, head in her lap and silent tear tracks still drying on her cheeks. She had returned not long after Carol and Morgan’s arrival, but without Aaron, who had chosen to remain behind at Oceanside. The two of them had gone to the community in order to seek their help in the war against Negan, but Enid had accidentally killed their leader, an old woman, in trying to protect Aaron. The impact of that, along with learning about Carl’s predicament, had the teenager in a somber mood. Maggie knew that she and the boy had a special relationship, she’d seen the signs, and Enid’s reaction when she heard how injured Carl was had not gone unnoticed by her. She needed to comfort the girl, but with the situation as precarious as it was, there wasn’t any time. Negan would be here any minute.

She looks up again when Rick enters the room, Daryl lingering behind him.

“It’s time to go,” Rick announces, reaching for his revolver. “They’re approaching the gates. I need everyone who’s agreed to be out there when the Saviors arrive to go now. The rest of us will go report to our positions.”

Maggie faces the room at large, jutting out her chin confidently. “We’re ready. We can do this. Let’s go take back what’s ours.”

There’s no hesitation. Every single person present holds their weapons - rifles, guns, knives, whatever they’d managed to acquire - a little tighter, and begin heading out the door. Enid straightens up, grabs her gun from the side table, and flips the safety off. She comes to Maggie’s side, and the tears are gone.

“Are you sure you’re ready to jump back into this?” Maggie asks her. “You could go to Carl -”

“No, I’m ready,” She replies. “I’ve been ready for a while now. I just didn’t know it. It’s time to make them pay. For Glenn. For Abraham. For what they did to Carl.”

Maggie studies her, knowing that she's serious. She's ready. “All right, then. Go with Daryl and the others. I’ll meet you out there. Don’t do anything until I get there.”

The girl nods. Daryl jerks his head, and she and the others follow him, disappearing out the door. Michonne takes a deep breath and reaches for Rick’s hand, who clutches hers right back.

“Is Carl okay?” She asks. “I didn’t get a chance to go see him again before… or Judith. If something happens to one of us -”

“Don’t,” Rick stops her. “He’s fine. I promise. They’re both fine. We’re all going to be just fine.”

Maggie joins them, squeezing each one of their forearms in comfort. “Rick’s right, Michonne. We’re going to win this. We’re going to defeat him once and for all.”

Michonne swipes at her eyes, nodding jerkily. Side by side in companionable silence, they walk through the safe walls of Barrington House, and out into the unforgiving night with an unspoken promise between them.  

It was time to finish this.

-

The air feels like it’s been swallowed by smoke, sweltering with the heat of the grenades that his men had thrown in order to get the assholes’ attention. It had created a thick haze, obscuring everything. The blasts have hardly finished going off when Negan hears movement coming from inside, and smiles. There’s the clicking of guns, the replacement of clips signaling the readiness to fire, the barest hint of clanging of steel. So, they were all ready to go. Good. He wanted a fucking fight, not like what happened in Alexandria with them all fleeing like a bunch of cowards. Negan saunters to the front, his army filled out behind him, and raises the microphone to his lips. 

“Well, good evening, you sorry sacks of shit! I hope the racket didn’t wake none of ya’ll,” He taunts. He hopes it woke every last of them. “Now that I have your undivided attention, here’s how this is gonna go. I know you’re here, Rick, so let’s make this easy for everyone. Turn yourself over, along with the widow, and none of the other poor people here will needlessly suffer. As I understand it, the widow is in charge of this place and I see no reason to destroy it if you comply. I also want the -”

He trails off when he spots the widow, who’d climbed up onto the platform, with a girl at her side. To his delight, the woman meets his eyes defiantly, raising her chin, her lips pressed in a firm line. “Negan,” She greets cooly.

“Ah, there she is. Maggie, right?” Negan flashes his teeth. “Nice to see you again. Damn, you’re looking even finer than when I last saw ya. Number two sure was a lucky guy. Well, I mean, maybe not so lucky with his brains goin’ splat, but you know what I mean. Anyway, what can I do for ya? Give me a good answer and this night might go a whole fuckin’ different way.”

He watches the way her jaw ticks, the way her eyes darken. Her husband was still a sore spot, then. “Just wonderin’ if you got my gift?” She asks derisively. “I sent it priority mail, so I hope you didn’t miss out before you left.”

The grin on his face spreads wider, although a spark of anger ignites at her audacity. “Nope, I got it. Thank you for sending him back. He wasn’t one of my more important guys, but he was a loss all the same. I’m sure you can understand that. The way I hear it, Simon capped one of yours too, am I right?”

He had received the corpse of his man not long before he’d left for the Hilltop, packaged in a wooden crate with the widow’s little message attached. She’d must have thought it funny to let the man that she’d shot turn while inside. Most likely done in the hope that Negan would get his throat torn out. Fortunately, Negan had dispatched him easily enough. He’d learned from Sasha not to trust cute little gifts trusted up in boxes anymore.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Negan continues. “Hell, I’ve said it to Rick. I don’t enjoy killing women. I was gonna make an exception for you, let Lucille get to work nice and slow, but honey, there’s just too much damn fire in you to snuff it out this early. So I think maybe I let you live for now. After all, the only one I really need to clip is Rick, and then we’re aces again. Even the King will fall over his own self-created pile of bullshit if that happens. So why don’t you tell Rick to come out here, huh? You - ” He points Lucille, aiming at the girl at Maggie’s side. “Why don’t you be a doll and go fetch him for me?”

The girl doesn’t move, only glares at him and raises her gun higher. The bead of sweat that he sees glistening on her forehead tells Negan that she isn’t experienced, though, not comfortable with the idea of killing. Huh. Cute. Still, let them think that this was negotiable, had any chance of going their way.

“We gonna play it that way, huh?” Negan guffaws. “All right. Well, here’s the thing. I blew Alexandria to hell and back, and I could do the same damn thing here. And I know ya’ll have babies and kiddos here and that would be a damn shame to have to blow them all up with you. And I know you don’t have an escape plan, not like back in Alexandria. You’re too secluded. So there’s only one way out of this, and that’s compliance. I’m willing to back the hell off and leave your little palace be - for a price. I’m not leaving without Rick’s fucking head on a goddamn platter, and not without the boy. You know him. Carl? He’s my little insurance policy, you see. Bring the kid and Rick out to me and I will leave ya’ll in peace. We can end this nice and quick.”

Maggie steels her jaw. “You can’t have Carl.”

Negan’s eyebrows soar up to his hairline. “Yeah? And why’s that? You gonna stop me?”

The woman looks at the girl, who lowers her head, and then down below presumably at her little assemble of dipshits. She licks her lips, and addresses Negan again, her voice hoarse. “You can’t because Carl’s… because he’s dead.”

Negan’s carefully constructed facade splinters for a millimeter of a second before he scoffs, eyes slits. “ _ Bullshit _ . Like how  _ you _ were supposed to be dead, too, sweetheart? Nah, I’m not buying it. Rick the dick wouldn’t be able to go on, let alone help organize an effort here if that were true. So I’ll say it one more fucking time before shit gets beyond what you all can handle. You won’t hand over Rick, either? Fine. I’ll get to him no matter what. That prick is not living one more fucking night. Give me the boy, or we come in there and massacre every last one of you along with Rick, and I still take Carl, so you’re in a lose-lose situation here either way.”

“It’s true, Negan,” Jesus speaks up from below the platform. “Carl didn’t make it. He was already gone when they brought him here. Rick’s… Rick’s in there with him. We haven’t even buried him yet.”

Negan doesn’t want to believe it. He doesn’t. It was a lie crafted in order to disarm him, to catch him off guard. He knew better than to believe the bullshit these people could create at the drop of a hat. But some part of him considers it, the mere possibility, and his heart clenches despite his best efforts to tell himself that it doesn’t matter. That Carl, alive or dead, doesn’t matter. The kid was his enemy’s son, a pain in the ass that kept challenging his authority. The fact that he could be dead was good for Negan’s cause. It let his followers as well as his enemies know that even his attachments had expiration dates, as did his deals. As did his patience.

“Well, if that’s true, it’s regretful,” He manages to choke out. “I liked him. He was a good kid. And he had major balls. He never hesitated to stand up to me. I respected the hell out of him for that.” He makes his voice come out rougher, stronger. “But you’re foolin’ yourselves if you think for one second that makes one goddamn ounce of difference here. I still want Rick. If the kid’s really dead, then you people have already lost enough, right? Why make things worse when all you have to do is turn over Rick Grimes, and spare all of your people even more pain?”

Maggie’s fists clench at her side, her teeth gnashing together. “No deal. You want Rick, you come get him. But I’m warning you now that the only people that are going to be massacred are yours. We’ll save you for last, so you can watch all of your pawns fall around you before we call checkmate.”

Negan’s nostrils flare. “All right. Have it your fuckin’ way,” He growls. He doesn’t even need to turn to know that his men are ready to go. He tosses the microphone to the concrete below and grips Lucille’s handle tighter. “Have at 'em!”

The Saviors come charging past him, immediately heaving an onslaught at the gate. Maggie and the girl hastily scramble to remove themselves from the line of fire and back behind the safety of the walls. Negan sneers. It wouldn’t do them much good. As soon as the gate was down, there would be nothing that they could do. He’d coated all of his and his men’s weapons in walker guts, and the resulting infection from the contact would be fatal. He’d even done the same to Lucille, her wires drenched in the nasty shit and just the smell of it made him want to puke. But it would serve its purpose. He couldn’t wait to see the horror on their faces when they discovered that little tidbit. Rick might even be impressed before Negan took personal pleasure in knocking his fucking head off his shoulders.

Being wooden, the gate comes down rather easily, far easier than Alexandria’s had, and his forces are inside and launching attacks at whoever they see. Negan trails in lazily behind them, letting Lucille go to down on a couple of the unfortunate fuckers trying to run away when they catch sight of him. One of them is just some stupid kid, probably around nineteen or twenty. He tries to backtrack when he sees Negan approaching him and the man smirks, watching with rapture as the poor asshole’s face splinters almost in half at the contact from Lucille. The screaming is a thrilling sound to his ears, even more so when he sees the kid reach up to grab the glob of blood and notice the walker remains mixed within. The realization dawns on his face and he screams even more.

“Walker guts! Their weapons are coated in walker guts!”

“That’s right!” Negan pats the kid’s shoulder buoyantly, praising him. He grabs a fistful of the young man’s hair and pulls.“Congratulations on being the first to figure it out. Now, what just happened to your face, without that? You would’ve survived that. You’d have been mangled as fuck, sure, and no woman here would probably wanna touch your dick ever again ‘cause of the way you’re lookin’. But since you’ll be dyin’ soon now, anyway, well, you get to live for a short time with the fact that you’re gonna die as ugly as you are stupid for thinking it was a smart move to defy me in the first place. Go ahead, spread the memo. Let everyone here know that I’m not fucking around anymore. Tell Maggie, tell Daryl, tell all of ‘em. But not Rick. Oh, no, Rick’s gonna learn from me. And he’s gonna learn _well_.”

He releases his hold, and the kid lets out a miserable wail, tears and snot coating what remained of his once decent-looking features. “Thank you for your service. It’s appreciated.” Negan remarks coldly, and walks away from him, whistling. He glances around. He doesn't see any more of Rick’s people - they must’ve run back inside. With a snort, he heads in the direction of the double doors. Let them play their childish games of hide-and-seek. It wouldn’t change a damn thing.

He’d kill his way in and take what he wanted.

He ignored the part of him that reminded himself that part of what he wanted wasn’t here anymore.

-

His father and the others aren’t gone for long at all before the absolute chaos starts.

He could hear Negan from outside, using that same fucking microphone that he’d used back at the Safe Zone, making his demands and the same petulant threats he always did. While the boy was unable to make out everything the man was saying, he was able to make out enough to know that Negan was trying and failing to negotiate with Maggie. Whatever terms they were discussing weren’t working out. Truthfully, Carl hadn’t expected them to, not really. But he’d hoped, in some capacity, that this could be avoided all together. His desire to establish peace was beginning to slip away - if Negan wasn’t willing, there was nothing that could be done. The only chance was that his dad would come through, and would be able to capture the man before they lost too much, lost any more people. If it came down to it, Carl knew that Negan would have to die. He’d made his peace with that. But he tried to tell himself that he needed to trust in his father, that Rick would try and honor his wishes to spare the man. He had to trust him, just like his father had trusted Carl when he’d assured him that he’d try it his way.

More than that, he had to do what he promised his dad he wouldn’t, and that was to remain where he was. The itch to get out there, to help, was overwhelming. He wasn’t used to being benched like this, being of no use to anyone. There was screaming coming from what sounded like all over the place. He could hear the continuous spray of gunfire and the shattering of glass, along with the cries of the children hidden in the rooms down the hall from him.

Judith.

Was she all right? She was probably terrified, wanting him or his father to comfort her. She’d always been such a quiet baby, not the type to wail when distressed, but she’d found stability since they’d arrived in Alexandria, and all of this noise was going to disturb that sense of security, and would frighten her. The overhead lights suddenly begin to flicker erratically above him, and seconds later the room is blanketed in complete darkness. All of the medical equipment dies out too, and his eye widens. The electricity must’ve been cut off.   

Which meant that Negan’s forces had already infiltrated.

“Shit.”

He starts when he hears miscellaneous voices coming from outside his door, and someone attempts to rattle his doorknob. He holds his breath, not knowing if he should sit still or try and get up. A few seconds pass before it stops, and the voices speak again, more distinguishable.

“This one’s locked up tight. Think we should break it open?”

“Always said that doors that are locked up like that aren’t worth nothin’ unless you got something to hide. Yeah we break it down.”

Another voice comes. Desperate. Angry. “Away from the door, assholes! Get on your knees, on the ground!” Carl recognizes it as the guard that Maggie had appointed to be stationed at his door, to protect him. He must’ve left before everything started and had only just now gotten back. There’s shifting, followed by a loud gunshot. He doesn’t even have to be out there to know that it was the guard that had been struck by the bullet, grimacing when the body smacks harshly against the teen’s door and slides down to the floor. Carl can practically see the blood smear on the other side of it.

“You know what, forget it,” One of the voices speaks again, disinterested. “If there’s something in there, Negan will know. Let’s keep going. I saw a couple of ‘em head down that way, and you heard him. Leave no one alive.” The two joint pairs of footsteps begin to retreat, and Carl feels the oxygen slip back down into his lungs.

That settled it. He couldn’t stay like this. He was in no position to defend himself if Negan’s men got in here. He knows he’s risking a lot, too much even, and it was going against his dad’s orders, but he makes up his mind.

The boy moves fast, resisting the urge to cry out in agony as he struggles to get up off the bed. He almost falls, catching himself on the bed frame just before he plummets to the floor. The action is dizzying, and he has to blink rapidly against the vertigo as he clamors back to his feet. He clutches at his abdomen, now searing in pain from the aggravating motion, and tiptoes his way to the other side of the bed. With the power out, he would have to feel his way around, which was going to be difficult to do while he was still attached to machines with an IV stuck in his arm.

As quietly as he can, he searches for the wires connecting him to the equipment and yanks them loose. The bandages that Doctor Carson had used to rewrap his wound earlier were still out on the counter, so he grabs a couple of them, securing them between his teeth. He gently eases the IV out of his vein, undoing the sticky binding of the wrappings with fumbling fingers and applies pressure, letting the blood clot there. He staggers back around the other side of the bed, nearing the door. The last of the pain meds remaining in his system were starting to wear off. With their effect diminishing, it was becoming incredibly painful to do more than take a couple of steps at a time. He’s probably ripped a couple of stitures already, but in the darkness, he can’t check how badly he’d reopened his wound. He barely makes it to the door without passing out and unlatches it, peering through the crack. The guard meant to have watched over him is lying in a bloody pool on the floor, his finger still on the trigger.

Carl swallows against the pit of nausea in his stomach and reaches down, slowly, gently, to grab the pistol from the man’s hand. By the weight of it, it was still pretty loaded. He grasps it tightly and unsteadily gets back to his feet, ignoring another rush of dizziness as it obscures his vision. He eases himself back into the room and latches the door shut again, leaning against it with heavy pants. He wasn’t going to make it down the hall, not at this rate. But at least he had a weapon now.

His heart leaps into his throat when he hears the unmistakable sound of Negan’s sultry tones resonating down the other side of the hallway. He stills his breathing to almost nothing, listening.  

“The rest of you, head down that other way. You know what you’re supposed to do, and if you don’t, I’ll fuckin’ tell you again. Shoot anything that moves apart from Rick. If they’re lyin’ and you happen to see the kid, that especially goes for him. This part should not need saying, but since you’re a bunch of stupid fucks, I’ll just add it on. If you discover any of the little ones, you let them be too. We’re not goddamn child murderers. Everyone else is fair fuckin’ game. Now go.”

The footsteps disperse into every direction, and Carl exhales in mild relief. Negan’s whistle echoes off the walls, which meant that he was close by, really close. He might have just passed Carl’s door. The boy quietly unlatches it again. A quick glance tells him that no one’s around but him and Negan, and he makes another decision. He emerges from behind the safety of the door, his legs trembling with both unease and pain.

“Negan,” He rasps out, so quietly that he thinks for a second that the man may not have heard him. But then Negan stops, and Carl sees the back of his head rise and his back straighten. When he turns to look at him, Carl’s eye widens slightly. There’s a slightly haunted look on Negan’s face, like he can’t quite grasp the reality of Carl’s existence. His adam’s apple bobs with emotion, and a softness comes across his features.

“Kid.”

They stand like that for a moment, contemplating each other, what the other’s next move might be. Carl tightens his grip a little on the gun, just in case. And then Negan laughs, shaking his head, and begins to approach him.

“I knew it. Those fuckers had me almost believing it, but I knew it. You had to be alive. There was no way in hell your little ass was dying from something so damn stupid.”

He takes in Negan’s non-threatening demeanor, and the gun in Carl’s hand falls slack at his side. “Almost did,” The boy says, gritting his teeth as another painful throb surges through his body. It was getting harder to stand, and he has to grip the wall for support. “I guess I just got lucky. Again.”

Negan huffs out another laugh. “It ain’t fuckin’ about luck. It’s about the fact that you’re a goddamn badass and you were going to fight that shit tooth and nail. Damn. You got shot fuckin’ twice and now stabbed and you're still kickin.’”

The older male closes the remaining distance between them and hesitates briefly before he envelops the boy in his arms with a gentleness that surprises Carl. His nose is pressed against Negan’s leather-clad chest, and he catches a whiff of the scent from Negan’s jacket. It smells like smoke, beer, and something so characteristically Negan. He flushes a bit, because this feels way too close. It’s not the first time that Negan’s ever touched him. Even when he’d showed up to kill him, there’d been little touches like pats on the back, or a hand on his shoulder. This feels treacherous. It felt too weird, too affectionate. He never pegged Negan for the hugging type, especially for the kid of his sworn enemy.

He hisses loudly when Negan’s hand brushes a little too painfully against the injury, and the man pulls back immediately. “Oh, shit, Carl. I didn’t even think of  - are you alright?”

Carl manages a tight nod, waving him off. “I’m fine. The pain meds are just wearing off. And I can’t get more right now because the power’s out and I took out my IV.”

“The hell you do that for? And why the fuck are you even walking around in the first place?” Negan demands. “You got stabbed, you should be in bed. What, you couldn’t handle not being in on the action for one day? You get bored of the fucking Jell-o? Did you need your daddy to come give you a goodnight kiss and tuck you in? That’s adorable, by the way.”

Negan’s teasing him, breaking his balls, he knows, but it still makes a tiny bit of furious color rise to his cheeks. “I didn’t know who the hell was going to come through my door,” He says flatly. “And I wasn’t going to sit there and just wait for one of your asshole men to come at me again.”

The jab causes a flicker of regret to come over Negan’s features, and he sighs, rummaging a hand down his face. “So you decided it’d be safer to come snooping and parading through the hallway? Yeah, real smart, Carl. I thought you had more brains than that shit.”

Carl bristles, taking a couple of angry steps back away from him. “Fuck you, man. I wouldn’t have to be if you’d had better control of your men in the first place. Learn to keep your dogs on a leash if you don't want them to bite.”

Negan's eyes harden, glowering at him. “Hey, drop the goddamn attitude. If you weren’t in the shitty ass shape you’re in right now, I’d have you over my damn knee, kid, for the shit you pulled back there in the first place. I’m still pissed at you for that.”

“What was I supposed to do, just let you attack my home, my family?” The teen demands. “I wasn’t playing around. I already told you, if you wanna end this, just kill -”

“Don’t,” Negan growls. “Don’t you dare fucking suggest that shit again, do you hear me? Killing you is not a goddamn option.”

“Why not?” Carl replies testily. “Why am I off limits, but my dad isn’t?”

“You already know why. Your dad needs to learn that there are consequences to his actions, and so do your people. You were right about my men, as much as I loathe to admit it. You don’t keep it together, it comes apart. I had to make them understand that, again. I have to do the same thing to your dad. To your people.” He pauses. “Hell, even you.”

“Negan, this doesn’t… you can stop this.” The boy protests weakly. “We can stop this. Stand down, make peace. Work with us. We all want the same thing. We all want a better world. Let’s work towards that. Let’s make a trade system, if we have to. We make things for you, you make things for us. You don’t have to keep killing people to keep things intact. You can be better than this. We all can.”

Negan quirks his head at him. “You say that like you think your daddy or any of your people will go for it. You must be on some strong shit for that level of delusion, kid. They all went to the trouble of pulling shit out of their asses lyin’ to me to make me think you were _dead_. But since you probably didn’t hear that part, you wouldn’t know that, now would you?”

“I convinced my dad,” Carl insists. “I convinced all of them. And yeah, I know about it, they lied about me being alive because we thought maybe it would make you call this off. But since it didn't, they have to fight back. But it doesn't have to be like this. There doesn’t have to be any more bloodshed. Just… stop. Just stop and listen and realize you’ve been a dumbass this whole fucking time. We’re all willing to stop this. Are you?”

A heaviness comes over Negan’s features, the same kind of tiredness that Carl had seen on his own father, and the man turns away from the teen, pondering. “God damn it, kid.” He sighs, his hands on his hips. Slowly, he gazes back over to Carl, appraising him. “You wanna end this? You really want this shit to be over? You’re the deal-breaker,” He says finally. “You agree to come back with me, serve me until you become my heir in a few years, and I call all of this off. I’ll let your daddy live. I’ll let all of them live. No one else dies, so long as they don’t try anything stupid ever again. That’s the only way this ends, Carl, so you’d better think and think long and hard about what you want to say.”  

For the second time that day, Carl can hardly believe what he's hearing. Negan was actually making an effort. “I -”

Automatically, he knows there’s no other choice in the matter, no other viable option. He’d have to do it. He'd have to leave his family behind, and go with Negan. But he thinks of Judith, growing up without him, and his dad and Michonne carrying on in the community, broken and incomplete. The tears come unbidden, stinging his eye. He blinks them away. Negan’s expression softens when he notices the depressed look on Carl’s face.

“I wouldn’t keep you from them, kid. Not forever. I’m not a fucking monster. After we get everything settled, I’ll let you visit ‘em, especially because I can’t see your dad not trying nothin’ without knowing that you’re okay. I can’t promise it would be every day, but you could see them once in a while so long as you’re loyal to me. If they stir up any kind of plans, you will be expected to stop them in any way necessary. If I find out you’re fuckin’ with me or working with them, that’s it. Deal’s off, and I kill them all, including your sister, and you get an iron to the face and ten times worse than Dwighty or Mark ever got. So like I said. Think, and make sure your choice is the one you want to make. Because once you make it, you can’t take it back.”

It felt like a clock was winding down, down to the last second, and the timer had finally run out. He only had minutes, seconds, to make a choice, one that would decide the fates of himself, Negan, and the rest of his family. He’d told Negan back in Alexandria that he’d never serve him, never submit, but the scope of this war had changed that. It wasn’t about his pride anymore, or even about submitting, really. It was about giving his family, the people of Alexandria, and his little sister a brighter future. The part of him that desired a taste of Negan’s power, to serve under him, because fuck, if he didn’t admit it now he was never going to, stirred to life at the idea.

He glances up to meet Negan’s eyes again. The man is awaiting his decision patiently, not rushing him into it. Letting the choice be unencumbered, all his own.  

“I’ll do it,” He chokes out, feeling like a vice had clamped his vocal chords. A single tear makes its way down his cheek, followed by another. He struggles to get a hold of himself, not wanting Negan to see him cry, even like this, and forces himself to look back up at the man resolutely. “I’ll go with you.”

The pleased smile curves Negan’s lips again, and he reaches up to pat Carl’s face. Once, it would’ve felt mocking, an attempt to break him down. Now it felt like fatherly affection and an equal footing. “Atta boy,” He says. “Go grab some more bandages so we can rewrap that wound and a fuckin’ shirt. I’m not having you walk out here looking like that. You opened some of that shit up.” He gestures to Carl’s injury.

Carl can feel it now, the small pool of wetness clinging to the cotton. “Before that, can I...” The boy swallows. “Can I go say goodbye to Judith? She’s down the hall, and...” He didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t sure that he could walk on his own, but Negan seemed to get it.

“You can say goodbye to whoever the fuck you want so long as you keep up your end, kid,” He shrugs. “If you need help getting there, tell me. Even little badasses need that once in a while.”

Carl’s lips almost quirk in amusement, but the intensity of the pain overshadows any humor he’d felt at the compliment. He’s barely taken a single step back to his room before he’s doubled over, clutching at the door frame. He slides down, his legs refusing to hold him upright anymore. Negan’s a foot or so away from him, watching him with what a somewhat concerned expression.

“Kid -”

“Just give me a minute,” The boy groans. He fights the urge to let himself collapse on the floor.

The rush of several footsteps hurriedly nearing them makes Carl’s head snap up instantly despite the dizziness and he gazes around wildly in mild alarm. Had Negan’s people found them? Instead, he finds that his father, Maggie, Jesus, Rosita, Tara, and Daryl are all beside him, with their weapons aimed at Negan.

“Hands up, asshole! I won’t say it again.” Rick snarls.

Carl directs his attention back to Negan, his breath catching when he sees the absolute fury on the man’s face, along with barest hint of hurt, of betrayal. “Again, Carl?” The man drawls lowly, dangerously, and it’s the most terrifying sound that the teen's ever heard. He unintentionally curls in on himself, the hairs on his neck rising. “You fuckin’ little bastard. Did you plan this shit?”

Carl is so stunned by Negan’s rage being directed at him that he can’t reply, the words he wants to say stuck in his throat. He can’t even bring himself to deny it.

“Don’t you dare talk to him like that,” Rick snaps.

“Let’s finish it,” Tara says icily. “Let's kill this asshole.”

Rick spares her half a glance before he shakes his head. “No. We’re keeping him alive.”

“Rick, you can’t just make a decision like that and expect us all to be okay with it!” Rosita retorts hotly. “This needs to be a decision made by all of us. This asshole killed Abraham, and Glenn, and countless others, and what? We spare him just because Carl asked us to?”

“We’re not sparing him.” Rick says, looking at Carl with such utter admiration that the boy can’t even really appreciate the scope of it. “We’re still punishing him for all that he’s done, but in a way that he can’t hurt anyone else, without killing him. Look, not everything was destroyed back in Alexandria. That cell that Morgan built, it’s still - ”

“Are you kidding me?!” Negan roars, and Carl flinches from the sound. “You’re condemning me to a goddamn cell?!”

Daryl’s in his face in an instant, crossbow aimed right between his eyes. “Say one more thing, and I break your damn legs. Wise up for once and shut your fuckin’ mouth.”

Negan’s jaw ticks, a look of pure loathing settling over his features.

Rick comes up beside Carl, and the boy looks over at his father somewhat fearfully, rattled by what had just happened. In all the time that he’d known Negan, the man had not scared him, not once. He’d angered him, sure, the boy had even hated him. A part of him still did, and would always hate him, for the things that he'd done. But the friendship that had been developing between them, as unwilling as it had been on Carl’s end, had affected him, and he’d thought maybe it had affected Negan, too, made him want to be something more, something better. He’d foolishly thought that maybe Negan would appreciate Carl’s desire to spare the man’s life, to rehabilitate him rather than kill him. He barely notices that he’s been scooped up into his dad’s strong arms, and when he does, he buries his face in the crook of his neck rather than look at Negan.

“Are you okay?” His dad asks, stroking the underside of his cheek where his left eye used to be.

“I’m okay,” Carl says tiredly, letting himself be comforted by his father’s warm embrace. “I’m just tired.”

He hears the metallic sound of the cuffs being placed on Negan’s wrists, the rattle of the chain dangling from Daryl’s hand as he inclines his head at Rick.

“Where are we takin’ him, Rick? Back to Alexandria?”

“Outside first,” Rick states. “I’ll be out there in a minute, once I get Carl settled. Let them see their leader is not as invincible as they thought he was. Once we get them to stand down, Dwight can take over things.” He meets Negan’s eyes. “You’re gonna live, Negan. Because my boy cared enough about you to ask me to do that. You get to live, and watch as we all thrive, and live, and go on without you to take anything else from us. You get to watch us make a better world, one that you won’t be a part of.”

“Quit runnin' your fuckin' mouth and get me the fuck outta here, then.” Negan snarls, and Carl swears that he can feel the man’s eyes on him, without even having to look. “Take me back to your shithole of a community. It would be better than spending one more fuckin’ second in the presence of lyin’ little pissants.”

Carl feels as though he’s just been slapped. He glances up in time to see Negan being hauled away with shackles around his hands and feet, and the man no longer looking at him. He knew that Negan would be pissed, of course he would be, but not this much. He assures himself that maybe with time, Negan would realize that Carl had done this in order to help him, to save him. He releases a shaky breath, looking up at his father with earnest.

“We’re really safe now, dad.”

“Yeah, Carl. We’re safe. Now that we’re together,” Rick smiles, and it’s infectious. “It’s over.”

The grin that comes over the boy’s own face is dimmed, but just as relieved. The war was done. All that was left now was the recovery, for all of them.


End file.
